In the NFL, the narrative can flip in an instant. But what’s happening in Cleveland is more than a simple shift; it’s a full-blown “Uno reverse,” a public reckoning that has seen a rookie quarterback’s most venomous critics transform into his most vocal supporters.

This is the story of Shedeur Sanders, the man who was told he was “more flash than football,” and Tony Grossi, the veteran analyst who led the chorus of doubt. It’s a drama fueled by the “devastating” failure of a chosen starter, the quiet defiance of a rookie, and a gritty performance that became so undeniable it forced an entire city’s media landscape to apologize.

For months, Tony Grossi was, without question, one of Shedeur Sanders’s “biggest haters.” When the Cleveland Browns drafted the Colorado standout, Grossi was at the front of the line to question the pick. He doubted Sanders’s composure. He questioned his leadership. He dismissed his flashy, confident style as ill-suited for the rugged AFC North. To Grossi, Shedeur wasn’t ready, wasn’t good enough, and definitely wasn’t “the guy.”

Grossi’s criticism wasn’t just analytical; it was personal. He didn’t just critique, he “mocked.” In one infamous segment, when Sanders was reported to be dealing with arm soreness after taking reps, Grossi was scathing. He scoffed at the very idea, questioning how a quarterback could possibly be sore, painting Sanders as “soft.” It was a cold, bold declaration that undermined the rookie’s toughness and commitment.

Through all of it, Shedeur Sanders did something remarkable: nothing. He “never fired back.” He didn’t take to social media to defend himself or engage in a war of words. He “stayed composed, stayed focused, and let his game do the talking.” He knew the words of a critic didn’t define him.

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t notice.

A pivotal, telling moment occurred after a preseason game against the Panthers. Sanders, with a calm that “carried weight,” walked straight up to Grossi. There was “fire in his eyes” as he confronted the analyst who had spent weeks tearing him down. “You still don’t believe in me?” Sanders asked directly. “I be hoping you got something positive to say about… you only say negative stuff about.”

It wasn’t just a confrontation; it was a “statement.” Sanders was done being underestimated. And from that moment, the energy in Cleveland began to shift.

The catalyst for the “great reversal” wasn’t just Sanders, but the man the organization chose over him: Dillon Gabriel. Gabriel was “Kevin’s guy,” the prospect hand-picked by Head Coach Kevin Stefanski. He was given the keys, the faith of the coaching staff, and the starting job. But the expectations never, ever matched the results.

Week after week, Gabriel’s performances failed to justify the team’s faith. His “inconsistent play” became a source of mounting frustration for the fanbase. Then came the “devastating game against the Steelers.” That performance, described as a complete failure, was the final straw. It was no longer possible to defend the coaching staff’s decision. Gabriel hadn’t just struggled; he had opened the door for the man everyone was told to ignore.

Suddenly, Tony Grossi was singing a completely different tune.

The same man who had mocked Shedeur’s “sore arm” was now leading his fan club. The “hater” had become an advocate. Grossi, in a “wild flip,” went public, not just with praise, but with a demand. He declared that Sanders “outperforms Dylan Gabriel” and is “pushing for Shedeur Sanders to be the Cleveland Browns starting quarterback.”

It wasn’t a soft change of tone; it was a “complete reversal.” After Shedeur’s gritty performance against the Steelers—where he showed the “poise, accuracy, and confidence under pressure” that Gabriel lacked—the critics had no choice but to surrender. The performance had shut them up, fast.

And Grossi wasn’t the only one flipping sides. Rex Ryan, another “longtime critic” of Sanders, performed his own 180-degree turnaround. Just weeks ago, Ryan was on air “tearing into Sanders,” accusing him of not preparing hard enough and questioning his discipline. The backlash from fans was instant, and Ryan’s tune quickly changed.

Now, Ryan is one of Shedeur’s “biggest supporters.” He has publicly “called out Kevin Stefanski” for his handling of the rookie, specifically for bringing in veteran Joe Flacco instead of elevating Sanders to the backup spot. Ryan called it a “missed opportunity,” arguing that Sanders isn’t just “roster depth” but a “rare talent” with the potential to be the “face of the franchise.”

The pressure isn’t just coming from the media booth. It’s reportedly coming from inside the building.

The frustration is “boiling over,” and it has reached the team’s core. Miles Garrett, the Browns’ “defensive anchor and locker room voice,” has “reportedly voiced his irritation” with Stefanski’s choices. Garrett, a leader who “puts his body on the line,” is said to be tired of the “same old story” of “wasted talent.” He has allegedly “questioned the offensive play calling, the lack of creativity,” and “most notably, the decision to keep rolling with Dylan Gabriel.”

When the team’s best player starts questioning the coach’s “guy,” the situation has reached a breaking point.

What was once a quiet quarterback discussion has erupted into a “full-blown controversy.” The buzz in Cleveland is deafening. Fans feel it. Analysts see it. And now, the locker room knows it. The Browns “can’t afford to keep ignoring Shedeur Sanders much longer.”

Shedeur Sanders’s story in Cleveland has become the ultimate vindication. He absorbed months of public ridicule and doubt from powerful media figures. He never complained. He just worked. He waited for his moment and, when it came, he delivered a performance so clean and confident that it made the coaching staff’s entire plan look foolish. He forced his “biggest haters” to not only admit they were wrong, but to join his cause. The narrative has “completely flipped,” and Shedeur Sanders is the one who flipped it.